


Fightin' Words

by Zhie



Series: Bunniverse [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6942865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A harsh reality for the only motherless child in Valinor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fightin' Words

**Author's Note:**

> 2012 B2MEM
> 
> B1  
> horror: wraiths, wights, and ghosts  
> Feanatics: in Aman…the motherless child  
> life events: Birth
> 
> N38  
> waters: pond
> 
> Extended edition - 5/23/2016

It was an innocent comment from which sprang a great debate, insult, and a bloodied, broken nose.

“Your mom is really a bossy lady,” remarked Feanor. He had seen the Telerin girl arguing with her mother, some babble about the suitable color for a spring dress. She was wearing red -- dark, autumnal, and not to her mother’s liking.

“What is it to you, Noldo?” She turned her nose up at him. Neither was yet to their majority, though she stood a little taller than him. It did not take long for a few of her friends to join her, one wandering up from the nearby pond oft used for fishing and another with a sack of sweets dangling by the satchel’s string. When there were before him some seven other children, he did not slink away, but stood his ground on sheer principal.

“Was it not you who disagreed with her and reasoned her ridiculous before my own ears?” prodded Feanor.

“Perhaps, and yet, no one asked your opinion. Since given to me without my desire for it, shall I give you my opinion of yours?” The girl sized him up with a smirk. “You’re the brat son of the Noldorin King, I believe. The one whose own mother sleeps unwakingly in a garden untended, if the rumors are to be believed.”

Feanor kept his head held high, flinching at the mention of his mother. “Son, yes.” He gave no confirmation of the rest.

She gave him a little shove. “What do you know of mothers? Yours never loved you – she’s a ghost! She hated you at birth so much she chose to die instead!”

Feanor looked as if he might charge the group in his rage, but as he took a step forward in challenge, an older child, nearly an adult, stepped to the forefront, poking Feanor’s chest. “Why not go home and cry to your mother about it? Right, because you cannot!”

The whole group let out a peel of laughter, and with a growl, Feanor leaped onto the eldest one. He was promptly knocked down onto the ground, and two other boys took it upon themselves to grab his arms and pin him to the ground. Had the eldest boy not stopped to crack his knuckles menacingly, he might have seen another figure moving up from the pond. It was a gangly lad, only a few years older than Feanor, but he had some height and muscle on his frame. It was just enough, so that when he punched the older boy square in the jaw, he brought him right onto the ground.

His fist retracted and shot out twice again once he was knelt on the other’s thighs, and he held his blood-stained knuckles back, threatening another. It took only one word from him to scramble the children. “Go.”

“Thank—“

Erestor held up a hand before Feanor could continue, and shrugged. “Ada says I gotta do what I do well. Fightin’, I do well.”

Feanor stood up and brushed himself off. The scrolls he had been carrying with him had rolled every which way during the altercation. "Excuse me," he said as he chased after one that threatened to roll down the path. Feanor returned victorious, and found that Erestor had already gathered up the rest of them. "Thanks again," he said. His path had crossed with Erestor's a few times in the past, but most of Feanor's recent time had been spent studying art, language, and history, while Erestor, the young prince assumed, had been occupied with how to accurately throw a left hook. "I should probably ask my father to get a pack for me. For the scrolls. I read a lot."

"Good idea," agreed Erestor. He looked like he was about to walk away.

"I am starting to run out of stories to read," added Feanor. He looked around, unsure where the other children had gone. There was a fair chance they would wait to ambush him along the road - it would not have been the first time - and while he did not want to abuse this sudden camaraderie with Erestor, he decided the wisest course of action would be to keep Erestor at his side for the walk home. "Do you have any favorite stories?"

Hands were shoved into the pockets of dirty trousers, and only now did Feanor notice that Erestor's feet were bare. "I like fishin'," answered Erestor.

"Oh... so do I," fibbed Feanor, and he filed away in his mind that when he asked his father for the scroll pack, he would ask him for a fishing pole and some hooks, too. "When you read, though, what do you like to read?"

Erestor blinked and then stared at Feanor before he shook his head.

"I have a hard time deciding, too," declared Feanor. "There are so many great authors. Do you have any favorite authors?"

Erestor's skin was dark for a Noldo, but his blush still stained his cheeks noticeably. "I can't," he muttered.

"I suppose that it unfair - I cannot think of any favorite authors off the top of my head, either," admitted Feanor.

Again, Erestor shook his head. "I can't read," he said clearly.

"Perfect!" exclaimed Feanor, and when Erestor looked confused, Feanor now blushed. "I mean, I can teach you!" When Erestor remained silent, Feanor added, "If you want."

Erestor contemplated and looked over his shoulder at the pond behind him. "Fish ain't bitin' today," he said.

"...Is that a yes?" 

Erestor shrugged.

"They have scrolls on fishing in the library," tried Feanor.

Erestor looked slightly more interested.

"And... other things... you like things other than fishing?" prodded Feanor.

Erestor shrugged again.

"Well... if you can read, you can find out about other things, and find out if there are other things you like to do." 

This must have been a good enough reason, because Erestor nodded.

"Great!" Feanor waited for Erestor to retrieve his fishing pole from the pond before he he led the way to his home. "Maybe you can teach me how to punch bullies," suggested Feanor when they began walking.

"Nah," said Erestor after he contemplated a while.

Feanor frowned. "Why not?"

"I think you're too nice to attack people," said Erestor.


End file.
